


Afraid of Losing You

by ignitethestars



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castle AU, Crime Solvers AU, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 12:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7893061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignitethestars/pseuds/ignitethestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tensions run high when Jemma ends up standing on a bomb (heavily inspired by the Castle episode "Still").</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afraid of Losing You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agentlemons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentlemons/gifts).



> Title of the fic is taken from a track from the Supergirl soundtrack, which I listened to while writing this. References of bombs and and arsonist throughout the fic. Major thanks to Nikki (aka fitzsimmonns on Tumblr) for beta-ing this! Hope you all enjoy!

Fitz’s world came crashing down around him. 

 

The day had started off well: he had brought Jemma breakfast in bed, the sunlight creating a halo around her dark hair, spilled across her pillow on  _ their  _ bed. Then Mack had called, informing her of a development in the case they were investigating-an arsonist that had upped his ante to murder-they’d found the guy’s apartment.

 

And so they had headed up, Fitz tagging along because he didn’t feel like writing and didn’t want to miss out on anything. And it was all perfectly fine, at first. Mack and Lance had caught the arsonist-some guy named James-outside the building.

 

But then, as they were leaving the apartment, there was a sound of a  _ click _ behind him. He paused, recognizing the sound instantly: it was the pressure switch that was most commonly found in mines.

 

He looked down at his feet, but he hadn’t felt anything. Slowly, realization dawning, he turned around and saw Jemma, who was staring at her feet in horror. She raised her head, her hazel eyes wide with fear as she met his gaze.

 

_ No. No, this couldn’t be happening.  _

 

The bomb squad were trying everything they could, but it was a losing battle. To disarm it, they needed a code and James wasn’t talking back at the precinct. 

 

Fitz leaned up against the counter, some distance away from Jemma, but close enough to comfort. “You okay?”

 

“Not really,” she admitted. “standing on a bomb isn’t what I’d classify as ‘okay’.” 

 

Fitz expression fell momentarily, but he fought to keep his optimism. “We’ll get through this,” he promised, “we’ve been through worse. Like, uh, Garrett-”

 

“The bloody tosser,” Jemma muttered under her breath.

 

“Donnie Gill,” Fitz continued. “The mummy’s curse-”

 

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Ugh, for the last time, Fitz, there is no such thing as a Mummy’s curse!”

 

Fitz shook his head solemnly, “I’m telling you, Jemma, I was certain I was going to die in that elevator. The way it kept shaking-”

 

“Old elevators do that from time to time,” Jemma responded. 

 

Fitz nodded but didn’t comment further on the subject of the elevator. “And then the zombies-”

 

“That was entirely your fault,” Jemma replied.

 

“How was it my fault?”

 

“It just was. And technically they weren’t real zombies.” 

 

“But real zombies exist you know-”

 

“Yes, Fitz, I know.” she sobered then and ducked her head. “Do...do you really think we’ll get out of this?”

 

“Yeah,” Fitz replied with a nod, “we will.” 

 

But even so, he couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach, and the two words replaying in his head like a broken record:  _ what if? _

 

* * *

Two hours passed and Jemma was getting antsy. Even trying to argue over who had fallen for whom first hadn’t worked for very long (but had instead gotten on Mack’s nerves when they called to ask him for his opinion).

 

The bomb inspector, a tall man named Blake, walked in with a solemn expression on his face. He couldn’t meet Jemma’s inquiring eye and instead spoke something hushed to Fitz, whose face fell. Blake headed outside and, after giving Jemma a reassuring smile, Fitz headed out after him.

 

Jemma could hear them talking, but couldn’t make out the words being said. Then it grew quiet. A few seconds later, she heard a small cry of anger and frustration. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing that she and Fitz were actually psychically linked, like Skye and Lance always said.

 

A few seconds later, Fitz reappeared. His eyes were red and his smile was watery. Jemma felt a sob work its way up her throat,  tears springing to her eyes. Whatever the news had been, it wasn’t good. 

 

“What did Blake say?” Jemma whispered hoarsely.

 

Fitz couldn’t meet her eye and he placed his hands on the kitchen counter for support as he ducked his head. “There’s a timer on the bomb.” 

 

Jemma felt her heart plummet. “H-how long?”

 

Fitz didn’t answer.

 

“Fitz...how long do I have?” 

 

At that, he finally straightened up, locking eyes with her, tears running down his cheeks. “Don’t you mean how long  _ we  _ have?” 

 

Jemma’s eyes widened. “No, Fitz. No, I can’t let you stay here, not if this thing goes off-”

 

“I’m not leaving you, Jemma.”

 

Jemma felt a tear drop down her cheek and she took a deep, shaky breath. “How long?”

 

“Thirty minutes.” Fitz responded weakly.

 

“Then you need to leave,” Jemma whispered, tears falling freely now. “Because I can only accept this knowing I’m the one…I’m not taking you with me, Fitz.”

 

“I’ve been beside you the whole damn time, Jemma. That’s not going to stop today.” He shook his head. “I can’t accept this. I won’t. I can’t give up.” 

 

“I’m not asking you to give up,” Jemma replied. “I’m asking you to keep going.”

 

“Without you?” Fitz breathed, his voice breaking. 

 

“For me,” Jemma corrected, trying not to sob. “Live your life the way you did before me...before you grew tired of Ward, just be-” her voice cracked- “just be happy.”

 

Fitz gaped at her for a moment, trying to summon the words he needed in order to respond. “I-I don’t know how I could.”

 

“You promised me, when we were looking for Malick and Garrett...you promised me you would do anything for me. This is my request. I need you to leave, go and be happy and live your life, that’s all I want.”

 

“Jemma-”

 

“Please, Fitz.” she whispered. “I don’t want to spend our last moments together arguing.”

 

Fitz licked his bottom lip and nodded, tears falling freely. “If that’s-” his voice broke and he struggled to continue, “if that’s what you want...then okay.”

 

Jemma nodded and, after a moment of staring at each other, Fitz turned and headed for the door.

 

But she couldn’t...

 

“Fitz,”

 

Immediately, he stopped and turned around. His gaze was watery and it made her heart ache to see him like this. She didn’t want this to be the way she remembered him, but it seemed life had other ideas.

 

“Yeah?” 

 

Jemma struggled with the words for a moment, then said, “I love you.”

 

Fitz smiled. It was a real smile, amidst the tears and heartache. “I love you, too.” 

 

And then she was alone.

 

She swallowed hard, still fighting the urge to sob. 

 

Jemma had gone through so much over the years...the death of her mother, drowning herself in clues and leads, trying to find Joanna Simmons’ murderer…standing by her family, in their darkest moments...meeting Skye, Lance and Mack...Phil and May…Bobbi...and-she bit her lip- _ Fitz. _

 

Fitz. Her best friend, her partner, her boyfriend.

 

She had survived torture, gunfire fights, bullet wounds, more heartache than anyone ever should, but to have been with him, it was worth it. 

 

Jemma swallowed, thinking back to their first date. It wasn’t meant to be a date...just a dinner. But somehow, it had always felt like more, even then.

 

_ “My life could be a soap opera,” he had joked. _

 

_ “Or an hour long drama,” Jemma had teased in return, “but with me in your life, it’d be a crime drama.” _

 

_ “My life’s boring without you.” _

 

The memory made her heart ache worse. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the tears away.

 

“Are you  _ meditating _ ?” 

 

Jemma’s eyes snapped open. She looked up and saw Fitz standing in the doorway, a weird looking device in his hand and his eyebrows raised.

 

“What are you doing here, you’ll get yourself killed!” Jemma cried.

 

“No, I won’t,” Fitz said. “We’ve got this,” he waved the device around, “It’s how we can disarm the bomb. We just need the passcode.”

 

“What’s the passcode?”

 

“Mack and Lance are working on it.” Fitz answered, he glanced down at his watch. “We’ll make it.”

 

Fitz kept repeating “We’ll make it” like a mantra for the next few minutes. Finally, Jemma just cried out, “Will you please stop? I can see you looking at your watch.”

 

Fitz dropped his hand to his side. “Sorry, I just-” 

 

Whatever was ‘just’, Jemma never found out, because Fitz’s mobile rang. He scrambled to answer it, putting it on speaker.

 

“We think we’ve got it!” Mack cried, “Seven, oh-eight, thirteen! It’s his password for his computer and his lottery number.”

 

Fitz went to punch in the numbers but froze, “Mack are you sure?”

 

“Do it, mate!” Lance cried in the background.

 

Fitz looked over at Jemma. She nodded. “Do it.”

 

He punched in the numbers, hands shaking. No one spoke for a moment, no one dared, as he pressed the final button. Nothing happened at first, until...they heard a click.

 

Fitz’s eyes widened and Jemma’s heart stopped beating for a second. Carefully, she moved forward off the pressure plate.

 

Nothing happened.

 

Jemma hurled herself at Fitz, almost knocking him over. He clutched at her, kissing all over her face, cheeks, forehead, jawline, wherever he could reach. Finally, he pulled away long enough to say to Hunter and Mack: “It worked!”

 

The sound of cheering was lost on them as Jemma pressed her lips against his, hand cupping his cheek. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him, returning the kiss just as enthusiastically. 

 

They had made it, the way they always had:  _ together. _


End file.
